


Window Dressing

by sofia_gigante



Series: Dark Knight, Bright Son [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anniversary, Bottom Clark Kent, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Dominant Bruce Wayne, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Submissive Clark Kent, SuperBat, Top Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofia_gigante/pseuds/sofia_gigante
Summary: “No more hiding, no more keeping our voices down, no more worrying about if Dick or Alfred or your neighbors can hear us.”Clark and Bruce take the next step in their 5-year relationship, and celebrate by fulfilling a long-held kink of Clark's.





	Window Dressing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much to my amazing beta, Castillon, for her wonderful work even amid a busy time.
> 
> This isn’t set in the Snyderverse, but I couldn’t help but be inspired by that sexy lake house Snyder!Bruce lives in. 
> 
> Though it is helpful to be familiar with the previous episodes in this series, this story can definitely be enjoyed on its own.

“I still can’t get over this view,” Clark sighed happily to Bruce, gazing out of the enormous, floor-to-ceiling window of their new lakefront cabin. They had arrived just in time for the golden hour, and Clark had been practically glued to the window since to watch the setting sun. 

“You get an even better view multiple times a day from the air,” Bruce called from the kitchen. Clark heard the rustle of bubble wrap, the tinkle of crystal being carefully placed on a granite countertop, and he smiled to himself. Of course the first things Bruce would unpack were champagne flutes. 

“Yeah, but I rarely get to stop and enjoy it. Especially in a beautiful place like this.” The sunset had painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, the last full rays bathing the lake in liquid gold. The towering pine trees had been cast in deep shadow, a dark, protective wall encircling the lake and the cabin. There wasn’t a single other building, road, or vehicle in sight, and the silence was broken only by the call of evening whippoorwills. It was paradise, and it was all theirs.

“It is quite a view,” Bruce murmured, joining Clark at the window. He handed Clark a champagne flute filled with bubbling wine, and then raised his own. “What should we drink to?”

“You really have to ask?” 

Bruce arched a dark eyebrow. “Well, I was going to start with congratulating you on your very first property purchase—”

“Thank you, real estate agent Bruce Wayne.”  

“And the overdue raise that tight-fist Perry White finally gave you.”

“That, I will definitely drink to,” Clark chuckled. “But later. This isn’t just about me. It’s about us.”

“Five years of us,” Bruce said, an edge of wonder to his words. 

“To five amazing years together,” Clark said softly. He clinked his glass against Bruce’s. “And to many, many more.”

Bruce didn’t break eye contact with Clark as he drank deeply, and Clark felt his cheeks heat. God, all it took was a  _ look  _ from Bruce and Clark could feel his entire being come alive. Bruce had had that power over him from the day they’d met as Superman and Batman, when the look had been accompanied by a suspicious scowl and a grated warning to stay out of Gotham City. Now, Bruce had been all but begging Clark to move into Wayne Manor for almost two years. Buying this vacation cabin together had been Clark’s compromise.

It had taken some negotiating to find the perfect location for them both: Clark wanted somewhere with big trees, Bruce wanted somewhere near the water. Both wanted privacy, but Bruce needed to be within 15 minutes flying distance of Gotham should an emergency arise. Which, with the Batjet’s engines, made for a pretty wide radius, but still cut out anything beyond the Eastern Seaboard. He also needed space to hide said Batjet, plus a few essential pieces of tech including a satellite Batcomputer, a few different suits of armor, a modest arsenal, and a bare-bones lab. Bruce had promised to not bring work with him to the cabin, but Clark knew the reality of his life: sometimes work came to Batman. He had to be prepared.

All Superman needed to do his work was his super-suit, and he had that with him at all times. Clark  hadn’t been able to contribute much to the furnishing of the cabin either, most of his capital having gone into his share of the property. He’d brought enough to make the place feel like his, though, including a family quilt his mother had insisted he take, because “a cabin isn’t a cabin without a quilt.”

Bruce had provided the rest, mostly rustic pieces of bespoke furniture that were worth far more than they looked like they were. However, there was very little so far that was personal to Bruce, no mementos, no knick knacks, not even one of his wildly expensive pieces of modern art. To be fair, they had barely started unpacking, so for all Clark knew Bruce had a secret collection of Pez dispensers he was about to insist they display on the fireplace mantle. 

“What’s that little smile for?” Bruce cocked his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“Just, that, so much has changed in these five years. From the day we met to—to this.” He gestured to the living room, the picture window. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”

Bruce nodded, took another sip of his champagne as his gaze shifted from Clark to the last sliver of sunset. “I never thought that a day like this would come for me.” 

Clark also turned to watch the final rays of the sun play across the water. He’d learned quickly that the fastest way to get Bruce to open up was to not look at him directly. 

“Even when we committed to giving us a try,” Bruce continued, “I figured that something…something would happen. To me or to you or just to the dynamic between us—”

“I’m not that easy to scare off,” Clark said lightly, reaching for Bruce’s free hand. “Or to take down.”

“You remember our first ‘date?’” Bruce asked dryly. “Where I spent over an hour picking Kryptonite shrapnel out of your chest?”

“Yeah, but then you kissed it all better.” Clark smirked. God, what different people they had been then, so unsure of themselves, untrusting of each other. “Hey, though, if it hadn’t been for that robot, we may not be here today.”

“Mmmm,” Bruce said through a sip of champagne, “I’m sure you would’ve needed rescuing again at some point soon after that.”

“Hey!” Clark said with mock indignation. “I believe the who’s-saved-who tally is still staunchly in my favor.” He fully expected Bruce to argue, count out all the times his quick reflexes or one of his gadgets had saved Superman from harm.

“Without a doubt,” Bruce said with sudden seriousness, “you’re the one who’s saved me. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Bruce, I…” Clark swallowed hard in the face of this naked honesty. 

“Please don’t—don’t feel like you have to say anything. I just needed to say that out loud.”

Clark  resisted the urge to grab Bruce, envelop him in a tight embrace, show him without words just how deeply he was cherished in kind. Clark didn’t doubt that had they not opened themselves to each other as they had, that Bruce would be a very, very different person today: much harsher, angrier…lonelier. 

They stood hand-in-hand in comfortable silence, sipping their champagne and watching the evening birds swoop through the twilit sky. It was so damned peaceful, and Clark took a deep breath to relish the piney tang of the spring air. 

“I can’t remember the last time you and I have had a chance to be so…” Clark struggled to find the right word.

“Free?” Bruce suggested. 

“Yeah.” He gave Bruce a full, genuine smile. “No work, no responsibilities, no one else for miles and miles.” He knew for sure. He’d checked with his super vision before slipping his kryptonite ring on shortly after arriving. Wearing the ring had become the equivalent of turning off his smartphone, giving himself permission to go “off the grid” and just be in the moment with Bruce…whatever that moment would bring. “Buying this place is already paying for itself.”

“Thank you for doing this with me, Clark,” Bruce said. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision for you.”

“It—it wasn’t,” Clark admitted. It had taken a lot of soul searching for Clark to finally decide to go into this purchase with Bruce. Clark Kent technically didn’t exist: he had no real birth certificate or social security number. The family fiction was that Clark was the son of a pair of overwhelmed young farmhands who had abandoned him when they’d moved on. His parents’ reputation had greased the wheels of small-town bureaucracy, which had allowed them to enroll him in school with no problems. College had been a bit stickier, but Clark had managed to get by. It had taken him a few years—and a bit of help from Superman—to find the connections he’d needed to “create” the proper paperwork to accept the position at the  _ Daily Planet _ , but to this day he worried that the truth could be exposed. He’d been forced to accept that things like purchasing property—or even legal marriage—were too great a risk for Clark Kent, no matter how badly he may want them. That was, until Bruce had figured a plan out.

“I’ll be honest,” Clark continued, “I’m still not 100% sure, but, I’m hopeful that it’s all going to be fine.”

“Of course it’s going to be fine. My lawyers made sure that the transition from our joint ownership to sole ownership to Dick will go seamlessly once I die. You won’t even need to sign anything, and no one will need to see you in person.”

Clark nodded, staring at the darkened tree line with a knot in his stomach. That was yet another hurdle they faced in their attempts to carve out anything resembling a “normal life” for themselves: Clark’s longevity. The hologram of his father, Jor-El, had told Clark that the older he got, the slower he would age: yet another effect of the Earth’s yellow sun on his Kryptonian physiology. So, the idea of staying put in one community for too long was out of the question. Clark would always have to keep on the move, keep his paper trail to a minimum. At some point, he may even have to switch his identity, or give up trying to have a human identity entirely. 

He shook his head to clear it. He didn’t want to think about all that right now. Tonight was about new beginnings, a new chapter in their relationship. He studied the champagne flute in his hand, the floral patterns etched in the crystal, the rose gold rims. “I haven’t seen these before. Are they new?”

“No. They’re…they’re quite old,” Bruce said, his voice deceptively light. “They were my parents’. They used them on their wedding day.”

Clark’s heart tightened, a shiver coursing through him even as warmth spread throughout his entire being. “Oh…oh, wow.” He looked at the glass again, overwhelmed with the twin desires to put it down for fear of breaking it and to cradle it close to his heart. This was a real piece of Bruce, his family, his heart. These moments were so rare, but when they happened, they were so achingly beautiful. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Alfred thought that they would be appropriate for the occasion,” Bruce said gruffly. 

“He was right,” Clark said softly. “They’re perfect.” He looked around the cabin. “It’s all perfect.” 

“Of course it is. I have you all to myself, miles away from everyone and everything,” Bruce said, his voice suddenly low and silky. 

Clark’s pulse sped up. He knew that voice well—Bruce’s play voice. In the fading light left by the evening sky, Clark could make out the glitter of hunger in Bruce’s ice-blue eyes just before he closed in. 

Bruce kissed him, hard and needy, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Clark’s head to pull him closer. Clark lost himself in the kiss, moaning as Bruce’s tongue wrap around his own. Clark could feel the heat radiating off of Bruce’s body in waves, his growing erection pressing against his thigh. Bruce wasn’t wasting any time tonight, was he?

“Is it time to break in the new bed already?” Clark asked between kisses, excitement throbbing through him. “Or the St. Andrew’s cross?”

“Not yet,” Bruce said, nipping Clark’s bottom lip. “I have other plans.”

“Oh?” Clark was already falling into his old headspace, entire being opening itself up to Bruce and making his body hum like electricity.

Bruce tightened his fingers in Clark’s hair, and Clark gasped as delicious chills raced over his scalp and down his spine. “No more hiding, no more keeping our voices down, no more worrying about if Dick or Alfred or your neighbors can hear us.”  Bruce tugged on Clark’s hair, and Clark moaned. “Are you ready to play, boy?”

Clark’s knees almost buckled, and he had to remember to keep his grip on the precious champagne flute as the delirium of surrender rushed through him. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. 

“Good boy,” Bruce purred. The sky outside the window had gone almost completely dark, the only remaining light cast from the kitchen behind them. Bruce smiled darkly at Clark, his features partially masked with sinister shadows.  It made Clark’s stomach knot in excitement, his cock harden in his pants.

Bruce let go of Clark long enough to take his mostly empty champagne flute and put the pair down on the coffee table by the couch. Clark thought to make himself useful, and set to closing the vertical blinds against the blackness of the picture window.

Bruce tsked. “I didn’t tell you that you could close the blinds.” He came back over and gently removed Clark’s hand from the blind’s pull. 

Clark’s heart leapt, and he looked out the open window nervously. “You want to keep it open?” It took him a few seconds before he remembered to add, “Sir?”

“I told you, I’m tired of hiding.” Bruce wrapped his fingers around Clark’s wrist, then pressed it against the glass of the window. “I want the whole world to see what a gorgeous boy I have.” He pushed his body against Clark’s, flattening him against the glass as well. 

Clark could barely hear Bruce’s words through the thunder of blood in his ears. Was Bruce really going to fuck him here, in front of the open window? True, Clark had determined that there hadn’t been anyone out there an hour ago, but, but what if someone was there now? A lost hiker or a determined paparazzo, or…or…

God, why was the thought of someone watching him making him deliriously hard?

“You like the idea, don’t you, boy?” Bruce chuckled low and cupped Clark’s hard cock through his trousers. He ran a trail of hot kisses down Clark’s smooth jawline, down his throat, each one sending sparks through Clark. When Bruce reached the top of Clark’s flannel shirt, he murmured, “Be a good boy and strip this off, will you? And your undershirt.” He let go of Clark’s wrist and Clark instantly complied, fingers fumbling with the buttons as Bruce kissed and sucked his neck while lazily massaging his cock. 

Clark tossed his shirts aside, and Bruce pressed him back against the glass. Clark gasped as the cold glass touched the burning skin of his back, and he wrapped his arms around Bruce to pull him closer. It was such a delicious contrast, the cool hardness of the glass behind him and the solid, living heat of Bruce before him. 

“Pants off,” Bruce ordered, fingers tracing slow patterns across Clark’s pectorals, promisingly close to his sensitive nipples. “Show the world that sweet ass of yours.”

Clark let out a strange, high moan, his fingers hesitating on his belt buckle. This had been a long-held fantasy of his—this exhibitionist streak—even before he’d met Bruce. Bruce had been teasing it out of Clark for years with mirrors and cameras, but never before had they dared fucking out in the open, in plain sight. 

“Come on, boy, you know you want to,” Bruce teased. He pinched Clark’s nipples sharply, making him cry out. “Your body was made to be put on display, like a toy in a store window.” 

He twisted Clark’s nipples harder, and Clark saw twin stars behind his closed eyes. His fingers were almost shaking too hard to undo his fly, but after a few tries he managed to loosen his trousers and slide them down to his ankles. 

Bruce’s hands immediately went to the waistband of his white briefs. “These, too, boy,” Bruce purred. “No cheating.”

“Sir, please…” Clark licked his lips, nervousness coursing through him. “Let…let me take off my ring, check to make sure there’s no one…”

Bruce immediately moved his hands up from the waistband, stroking soothing circles around  Clark’s navel. “Would it make you feel better to know that I have my perimeter alarms set through the Batcomputer’s security system? If anyone comes within viewing distance of this cabin, even across the lake, it’ll trigger the alarms.”

Clark couldn’t help the wondering laugh that escaped his lips. “Actually, it really does.”

Bruce smiled, a genuine, tender smile. “Trust me, Kal-El. I know how to take care of you.”

Clark’s chest filled with liquid warmth, saturating his entire being. He covered Bruce’s hands with his own, and nudged them down to the waistband of his briefs in invitation. “I do, Sir. With everything that I am.”

Bruce’s smile changed, and it was like watching mercury shift. One minute he was Clark’s open, tender lover, the next he was his hard, demanding master. He sharply yanked down Clark’s briefs, and Clark gasped as his ass pressed against the icy glass. 

“There you go,” Bruce crooned. “Let the world see just how perfect that ass of yours is before I fuck it.”

Clark clung helplessly to Bruce as he manhandled him, lost in this fantasy that skated so very close to the edge of reality. Bruce’s hands roved freely, possessively, over Clark’s body, making him moan and quake. 

“Turn around. Press your face to the glass.”

Clark’s stomach knotted and his mouth went dry, even as his cock jumped in Bruce’s hand. His ass was one thing, but…but to expose all of himself….

Bruce’s fingers dug into the sides of Class ass, spreading him open as he pressed a thigh between Clark’s legs. As the back of his balls hit the window, icy heat punched Clark in the gut. It was part mortification, part heady desire, radiating out from his core as his most private flesh was put on display. 

“Sir?” Clark croaked, burying his face into Bruce’s shoulder, unsure what to do with the strange cocktail of emotions roiling through him. So he did what his body bade him, and thrust his hips forward, rubbing his aching cock against Bruce’s fully clad leg.

“If you’re not going to display yourself, then I’ll display you for you.” Bruce pressed himself harder against Clark, giving him more delicious friction. “I’ll show the world what you’ve only ever shown to me.” Bruce’s voice was as sweet as warm honey, flowing through Clark, filling every inch of his being. “Don’t think I don’t treasure that fact, boy, knowing that I’m the only one who’s ever touched you, sucked you, fucked you. I want the world to see what it can’t have. What’s all mine.”

A primal moan escaped Clark’s lips, and before he realized what he was doing he was twisting his body in Bruce’s embrace. Bruce pulled away just enough to allow Clark the space to turn around to face the window. Utter blackness greeted him, not a single light visible on the lake or in the forest. Even the moon was still beyond the horizon, and only the most intrepid stars shone in the sky. Anyone could be out there, watching them, and Clark would have no idea. There could be one, two, a dozen, a hundred…

His cock leapt, and he pressed his cheek eagerly against the smooth glass. 

“Good boy,” Bruce sighed. He ran a hand down Clark’s back, over his ass, his touch warming the cooled flesh. He brushed a single finger over Clark’s entrance, and Clark almost jumped out of his skin. “You want me in here, don’t you? Inside this gorgeous ass of yours while the world watches.”

“Yes!” Clark squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of delirious want rushed through him. He could scarcely believe that this was really happening, this strange, hidden kink of his drawn out and literally exposed so methodically, so beautifully by Bruce. He heard the snap of a plastic cap, and he couldn’t help the rush of pleasure at the realization that Bruce had had a bottle of lube in his pocket this entire time. Always prepared.

Bruce pulled Clark’s hips out farther, making him press his face and hands harder against the glass to keep his balance. Clark gasped as a cool trickle of lubricant slid down the crack of his ass, followed shortly by Bruce’s deft fingers. He took his time massaging Clark, teasing open the sensitive flesh with light, maddening strokes. Clark kept waiting for the press of Bruce’s fingers sliding into him, whimpering and thrusting himself back impatiently. He craved the intense rush of penetration, and Bruce’s denial just made it all the stronger. Within minutes, Clark was practically sobbing and rocking backwards, trying to get Bruce to slide his fingers inside. 

“So greedy, my boy.” Bruce eased two thick fingers inside of Clark. “You’re burning up inside and out. You’re so damn hot I’m gonna come almost as soon as I start fucking you.”

“Don’t—don’t care,” Clark stuttered. “I want you so fucking badly, Sir.”

“Mmmm, I know I have you crazy when you start cursing,” Bruce chuckled. He positioned himself behind Clark without removing his fingers, and Clark’s head spun in anticipation as he heard the rasp of an opening zipper, the snap of the lube bottle opening again. He felt another wave of cool slickness trailing over his enflamed flesh, slicking Bruce’s fingers further as they pumped in and out. Then, they slid away, replaced by the thick head of Bruce’s cock.

Clark bucked backwards, uttering a low, needy whine as Bruce entered him slowly. Stars blossomed behind his closed eyelids, his entire body going feverish and slack as every part of his being centered on the sensation of being so perfectly filled.

“Oh god,” Bruce groaned. “You’re too fucking perfect, Kal-El.”

Clark cried out, soul and body utterly alive as Bruce sank into him. He barely registered the glass under his face and hands until Bruce’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his face up from the glass. 

“Open your eyes, boy. Look out into the empty night with me.”

Clark forced himself to open his eyes, expecting to look out into the starlit black. Instead, with his head pulled back like this, he could see his and Bruce’s reflections cast in the light from the kitchen. Clark barely recognized himself, his features twisted in ecstasy, his muscles bathed in sweat, his neglected cock so hard it stood flush against his belly. Bruce, though, Bruce’s face he knew well, that gorgeous blend of hot lust and cold command, the genuine joy shining in his crystalline eyes even as his full lips twisted into a mocking smirk.

“Do you see yourself? See what a gorgeous slut you are?” Bruce punctuated each question with a deep thrust, and Clark could only moan and nod in response. “Do you know how many other people could be watching us right now? Watching me pound this sweet ass of yours? You’re completely exposed, Kal-El, showing everyone just what a perfect fuck toy you are—”

Clark couldn’t take anymore. He didn’t wait for a command, his hand just dove down to encircle his rock-hard cock. One, two, three hard strokes and he was coming, the first blast of jism spattering against the window, leaving milky white constellations against the black. The image fueled the hot jolts coursing through him, and he bucked wildly against Bruce, pulling harder against the hand holding the hair at his scalp. Bruce’s orgasm tore through him a moment later, and he growled and pumped into Clark with a wild, furious abandon.

The storm passed, and Clark sagged against the window, panting and spent. Behind him, Bruce placed a tender hand between his shoulder blades, stroking softly.

“You are a wonder, my Kal-El,” Bruce whispered. He withdrew, and placed a soft kiss on Clark’s shoulder before turning him around to take him into his arms. Clark melted into the embrace, breathing in deep the secret odor of their sex: sweat, cologne, lube and bodily fluids mingling into this most private mélange. Clark was utterly addicted to it. He pressed a kiss to the side of Bruce’s neck, and Bruce dipped his head down to capture Clark’s lips. 

“And you are devious as hell, dearest,” Clark chuckled. His entire being was warm, languid, utterly sated. “This is the entire reason you wanted the cabin with this picture window, wasn’t it?”

“One of many.” Bruce smirked. “The view may have had a little to do with it. Going to be a hell of a way to watch the sunrise tomorrow.”

“Sunrise?” Clark arched an eyebrow. “You planning on getting up for a dawn hike?”

“No. I plan on staying up all night with you. Enjoy every second of this freedom we have.” Bruce kissed Clark again, deep and slow. “I have other surprises in store for you.”

“Oh?” Clark’s eyebrows twitched up. “One of those wouldn’t happen to be the mocha fudge ice cream you thought you hid in the freezer behind the frozen lasagna Alfred sent with us?”

“Maybe if he’d wrapped it in lead instead of aluminum foil it would still be a surprise,” Bruce laughed. He gazed at Clark with clear eyes, every inch of him exuding peace, relaxation. It was so rare for Bruce, and Clark wished he had the power to freeze time, or at least slow it down, to let them both bask in the utter serenity of the moment forever. 

“Hey,” Bruce said gently, palming Clark’s cheek. “We have plenty of time, Kal.”

Clark blinked in surprise at just how acutely Bruce had sensed the current of melancholy under Clark’s thoughts. He knew him so very well. 

“I know, dear,” Clark said. “This...this is just the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone who has been patiently waiting for the next installment for almost **exactly** a year! I can't promise I'll be writing any more quickly, but at least life has allowed a _little_ more time for writing again.


End file.
